


Sweetest Devotion

by Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible



Series: Help I Can't Stop Rainbow Sixing [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Child Death, First Kiss, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Romance, Songfic, Triggers, lol i forgot to tag Sledge when I first added him RIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible/pseuds/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible
Summary: Mark loves James. James loves Mark. But Mark doesn't need to know that, does he? (I'm sorry I'm bad at summaries and stuff. I'm also really tired, so excuse me.)





	1. It's Just a Pop Ballad

**Author's Note:**

> I got the three word prompt, and my words were Childhood, Cradle, and Violin...so enjoy, I guess. (I also apologize for any spelling errors because I wrote this very late at night and I haven't had time to proofread it.)

If he thought hard enough about what he wanted from his life, the one he was living now, with James (really with _all_ of the SAS but he always imagined he'd grow old with that one in particular…) ; he wanted to be a father. Because he remembered a vague and blurry period of his childhood where he thought his father was the best part of his life.

And they were all so happy, as a family. And his mom and dad never fought. And liquor bottles weren't thrown at the paper thin walls, threateningly coming closer and closer to his mother’s tiny, cowering body. They went on nice vacations and he got things for Christmas, and his father would rock his baby brother’s cradle till he fell asleep.

It was when he started playing the violin, as he could recall, that his family was the happiest. He started violin lessons two years before he graduated high school. When he was fourteen, and was beginning college courses after his gap year (that was truly the best part of his life), that was when his father began to drink…heavily.

It was when he started to throw bottles, and hitting his mother. They stopped vacationing, and his little brother was being shoved out of the way, not rocked gently as he wished he'd been. He remembered learning to hate himself for never trying to stop his father, for being so weak and afraid of him. He would sit in his room and cry. He would work on school work, or play his violin, or hide with his brother in a closet; but never would he stand up to his father. He'd never say a word.

He was Mute.

Those years were Hell for him…and nothing changed when his father left.

His mother could barely take care of herself, and money was tight even after she got a job. Mark knew she could only take care of his younger brother, and even if it were just the two of them, he still wasn't sure if she could provide for him completely.

He decided, the summer before his 18th birthday, that he had to get out of the house and start a life on his own. He figured it wouldn't be too hard, he was extremely smart, and he was sure he could land a job in the scientific engineering field. He could send a little extra money to his mother and brother, and all of their lives could finally be good.

He didn't, however, expect that the SAS would look into his research and his invention...let alone ask him to take up a position...when he was just 19 years old.

 

But here he was, 25, and sitting, staring over the edge of his shared bunk imagining what his life would be like if he could run away with this man, who he's only known since he had joined team Rainbow, and try to make a life with him. Whatever that even meant anymore. They were in the business of killing people, and he wondered if James wanted to _marry_ him and _adopt_ a _child_.

Wonderful.

Just _fucking_ wonderful.

Mark kept thinking that maybe, if he got James drunk enough, that he might actually say yes and they could resign together or something.

 _Yeah because that's just romantic as_ shit, _Mark_ …

There's a knock on the door. It's quiet, but Mark’s quiet too, so he hears it.

He clears his throat, knowing that he can't use sign language to get out of this conversation. “Come in.”

Heavy footsteps marched through the newly opened door and stopped directly below Mark, so their owner could look straight up to him.

“Hey, James.” He figured it'd be easier if he didn't use sign language right now.

“Hey, Mark. You wanna get down from there for a minute?” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I kinda need your help with somethin’.”

“Like what?”

“I'll tell you when you get down from there.”

“Fine.” Reluctantly, he pulled his legs around to the bunk bed’s rickety ladder and carefully climbed down.

“What exactly is it that you need my help with? You don't look like you have anything for me to do...so why are you wasting my time?” It wasn't necessarily that he was upset or bothered by James dropping by unannounced...it was just that he (Mark) usually got distracted by his (James’) accent or his arms or his eyes or-whatever. He gets distracted and loses his train of thought and he stutters and the list could go on, but for his sake it won't.

Mark is sure he sees James flinch at his words and he almost regrets them, until James speaks again. “No it isn't anything physical! I-I just wanted your opinion on something…something important. Just important to me obviously, but uh, I was just wondering if you could help me decide.”

 _Anything that's important to you is important to me too._ It's what Mark thought, and it's what he wanted to say, but he panicked and said the next thing that came to mind instead. It was a bit less romantic...

“Decide what, James?” Mark snaps. Once again, not upset or annoyed, just nervous and wanting to not be.

“Oh, sorry. I'll make it quick, but I was wondering what I should do…” Mark gave an expecting look and nodded as if to say, ‘Yes, okay, continue.’

“...I want your honest opinion.” James takes a pause to collect his thoughts and takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I've liked someone on the Team for _quite_ sometime, and I'm not sure if I should just come forward and tell them or keep it a secret. They aren't much for following social cues well, and they're sorta brash...so I don't know how they'd react to me just springing it on them.”

Mark had a thousand thought running through his head at once.

 _It has to be Marius. He has to be in love with Marius._ He feels sick at the mere thought of anyone tasting James’ body that wasn't him. _He just described Marius word for word…so what do I do now? Tell him I can't help because I'm desperately in love with him and don't want him to love anyone else? No. No I don't._

He clears his throat and begins. “Well, um, I guess it all just depends on the person, and their feelings for you. I wouldn't for example -if I were you-, run into, let's say, Marius’ room and just blatantly tell him that you love him. He'd flip.” At this point, Mark was aware he wasn't helping and was just trying to underhandedly tell James to not break his heart into millions of tiny pieces. He was going to start again, to finish explaining himself when James rudely interrupts. “Marius? What does he have to do with this? Do you think that _he's_ who I like?” Mark seems to visibly shrink in embarrassment at his reply.

“N-no! I was just using him as an example!” He silently curses himself for being so awkward with people and for being a horrendous liar; so much so that he wishes that he could simply crawl underneath the blankets of Seamus’ bunk.

James spoke again. “What if it were you?” This threw Mark off guard.

“Well, if it was me, I guess that I'd go for it and just say yes, because, you know, I've got _literally nothing_ to lose.” There's a short bout of silence before it's broken by James’ laughter.

“No, you idjit! I didn't mean if you were the one I liked…!” His heart began to crack like mosaic. “I meant if you were in my position what would you do?”

 _I'd ask me out with no hesitation, turn around, walk to the door, lock said door, come back, bend me over my own writing desk, and fuck the ever-loving shit out of me._ That was his thought process. What really came out of his mouth was something a bit less vulgar and sexy.

“I'd do it. I'd wait a few days, maybe think up a plan of how you're going to pull it off…but then after that, I'd go ahead and do it. But, I’d also remember that rejection is a very real thing, and that it happens to almost everyone.” _Like me right now._ He thinks.

“Oh, really? Just make a little plan, the go with it and just tell them how I feel?” Mark nods stiffly. “Thanks, Mark!” He ruffles the younger man’s hair and smiles at him warmly. “I'll talk to you later.” Mark watches as James walks away and reaches for the door. Against his better judgment, Mark press a slight bit forward and speaks up before James can leave.

“Who is it? If you don't mind my asking.” James turns slowly to face the younger man again and Mark realized he's still smiling. _Whoever he's fallen for is one lucky sonuvabitch._ James leans against the door frame coolly and replies in a light and teasing tone.

“If I told you outright, exactly who it was, you wouldn't be surprised when you find out that we're dating.” There's a long pause before he starts again. “Or, you know, if they hate me and never want to speak with me again, or if things are super awkward...but that isn't the point.” That makes Mark smile a bit. “But I can tell you one thing for certain. It isn't Marius.” He looks like he wants to say even more, but his cell phone rings. He looks at the Caller-ID and his smile brightens. _Oh, that must be them. He should probably leave before I have a meltdown and start to throw shit._

“Well, I have to take this,” _Of course you do, now leave!_ “So, you know, like I said before, I'll talk to you later, Mark.” The 25 year old tries to muster an acceptable smile and nods.

“Yeah, James. I'll talk to you later.” The moment he leaves, Mark thinks back to that happy time from his childhood.

Completely unaware that James is standing directly on the other side of the door, he pulls his violin from under the bunk, takes it from its case, and begins to play.

From directly outside, “What a lovely song, it's been so long since I've heard it played correctly.”

“What song is it?”

“Just a nice pop ballad. It's called Sweetest Devotion.”

And it was then, just then, in that very moment, that James knew.


	2. Who Knew Confessing Would Be This Hard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start off by thanking everyone who has, read this, left kudos, commented, or all three! It means so much to me, and I'm so unbelievably happy that you guys are enjoying this. Enjoy the next chapter, I know that I enjoyed writing it~! ;) If anyone is OOC I apologize. (Also sorry for any errors, I still have no Alpha or Beta readers!)

It had been about a week or so since James had heard Mark playing his violin oh-so beautifully in his room, and since he had gotten the amusingly helpful relationship advice from the same young man. 

 

But that meant that it had also been a week since James learned that Mark liked him back.

 

He had to admit, that it was only half as terrifying as he had imagined it would be; having his feeling reciprocated like that.

 

Especially by him. This young man, who he'd been pining over for months now. He made it so easy to be infatuated with him.

 

But he had a problem. One teensy-weensy problem that could ruin his chances of ever having a relationship with him.

 

Mark _didn't_ technically know that he _knew_.  

 

James had been sitting in his room, browsing some dumb time consuming website, trying to distract himself from thinking about Mark. But he found his thoughts drifting to him. 

 

James found it amazing that someone who was so reserved and quiet could be so expressive though an inanimate object. But Mark, who played his violin so perfectly...it  _entranced_ James. He was mesmerized by the song that Mark played with such sorrow.  _He must think I've fallen for someone else. And I haven't, but he doesn't know that and-_ He closes the laptop and stands abruptly from his seat, knocking it over.  _By god, I need to tell him. Somehow, through a note, or sign language...or something!_

 

James didn't quite know how to approach his current situation. He knew that if he didn't tell Mark, he was going to regret it, but if he _did_  tell him, then maybe that would make things worse? 

 

So instead of taking a cautious approach, he did the James thing to do. He marched his ass straight to Mark's room and knocked sharply on the door four times. 

 

The hasty sounds of climbing out of bed and smoothing out clothes. 

 

 _He was...asleep?_ James thought that sleeping so late didn't seem like something that Mark would do. 

 

His suspicions were confirmed when Seamus threw open the door. 

 

"Oi, what could you _possibly_  want?" He looked rather upset, and James wanted to avoid an angry bout of yelling from the Scotsman. 

 

"Erm, do you know where Mark is?" 

 

Seamus snorted. "Eating?" He pointed to the clock in their room. "He woke me up not yet an hour ago to see if I wanted food from Mess." 

 

James felt stupid when he looked to where Seamus was pointing to see it was 25 minutes after noon. "Oh." Was all he said and raised his hand in thanks to the obviously tired man. He stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall and then he turned to make his way down the corridor to get to the Mess Hall. 

 

It didn't seem to take long at all to get to the Hall, and sure enough Mark was sitting there, alone, poking at his food. 

 

The Londoner gathered his courage and made his way over to Mark nonchalantly. 

 

"You look like you've barely touched your food, Mark." James had apparently startled Mark from a daydream of some sort, as Mark jumped at the sound of his voice. 

 

"Oh, yes. I wasn't really that hungry it turned out." He signed to him. 

 

So he was in one of those moods. Signing instead of speaking. James nodded and replied with fluid hand gestures as well. "Would you...like to go for a walk?" He knew it was a long shot, but he wanted to be able to talk to him about last week. 

 

At first, James thought that Mark was going to say no right away, but after a few moments of thought, and a short laugh, Mark nodded his head in approval. 

 

James smiled at him, baring his teeth (which he rarely did) and in response, he got a smile back. Albeit, less toothy and a bit smaller, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

 

As they began their walk around the base's perimeter, Mark cleared his throat. 

 

"So, have you told the person about your feelings yet?" James glanced over to see Mark staring straight back at him. 

 

"Not yet, no. I was going to tell them today, though." 

 

"Oh, good for them." 

 

This was getting rather awkward, and James laughed to relieve some of the pressure. 

 

"Oh, no," he laughed again. "I'm quite dreadful to be with, they'd hate it if they accepted." Quickly after, Mark countered his comment. 

 

"I think that you're lovely to be with, James." His eyes widened at the comment he'd made and James could tell he hadn't meant to say it out loud. A part of him wanted to laugh, but the other wanted to nod his head in appreciation of the comment and to tell him everything he'd been thinking. 

 

He felt the blush rise to his cheeks as he replied, "Well, that's awfully nice of you to say..." And suddenly he was being dragged to a secluded part of the base, with a bench just big enough for he and Mark to sit. 

 

"I come here to think. Sometimes I come out here to feel, but usually I just play my violin when I want to do that." He coyly ducked his head down so James couldn't maintain eye contact, and as he tried, the gleam of a metal clasp caught his eye. 

 

"Is that your violin, Mark?" James inquired. Mark nodded his head and bent down to pick up the case from the ground. He unlocked the clasps on the case and opened it, revealing his cherry wood violin. "I...I wanted to play it for you." He seemed flustered, but nevertheless picked up the violin and bow, resting the former between his chin and collar bone and held the latter in his right hand. 

 

He relaxed his posture and spoke again  "I've been meaning to tell you something, since we talked last week." James nodded his head, this time. "I've been meaning to speak with you as well."

 

"At least we're on the same page, yeah?"

 

"You start." James offered. He didn't particularly want to confess, it turned out. 

 

Mark played a few notes on the violin before setting it in his lap. 

 

"I want to know who it is. That you like. I promise to not tell anyone. And I promise to happy for you." He seemed genuinely sincere, which made James sad. _He has no idea that it's him, the idjit._

 

James tried to play it cool.

 

"Well, it'd be kind of embarrassing to say it here and now, out of the blue like this is." He was very obviously staring at Mark's lips while he said it too.

 

"And it isn't because it's someone weird! But-" Mark cuts him off.

 

"You aren't cut out for acting, James." He rolls his eyes and playfully shoves James' arm. "Don't quit your day job."

 

"Now you go, Mr. Gas-Can-Man." James snorts at the new nickname.

 

"I just wanted to know if you like anyone, too." The question threw Mark off guard, and a blush rose to his face as he answered with a curt "Yes." 

 

"Who is it?" Mark shook his head. "It doesn't matter, they like someone else, I can get over it." 

 

"What if they like you, and you just don't now it yet?" James pressed. He was going to get a confession out of Mark before Mark got one out of him. 

 

"He doesn't. He already told me." 

 

"So it's a he then?"

 

"What's it to you?" 

 

"Nothin'. It's just the same for me." 

 

Mark shrugged. "I figured."

 

They sat in silence for a moment, with each of them pondering what to do next.

 

"So-" "Mark-" They started at the same time.

 

"You go first," Mark suggested.

 

"No, you. You obviously started speaking first." James knew it was a poor excuse, but if it meant he didn't have to start any awkward conversations, he was going to use it. Mark swallowed hard, like he had cotton stuck in his throat.

 

"Mind if I play you something? I think it really..." He searched for the right word, his mouth gaping open a few times before finding it. "Symbolizes our relationship in a sort of weird way?" He scoffs at himself. "I don't really know what I'm goin' on about. I'm sure it sounds ridiculous, but-" James cuts him off. 

 

"It doesn't. I understand what you mean." He smiled to Mark and watched as he brought his instrument up to its resting place and readied his bow.

 

At first, James didn't quite recognize the song, and it sounded just like so many he'd heard Mark play before. Slow, sad, and perfect for someone like him. But as the song picked up, James found that he  _did_ recognize it. It was the same song that he had played after James had left his room. He sat in silence, listening to the ballad; watching Mark pour his soul into the song.

 

James noticed that Mark had his eyes closed. He also noticed the way his hands moved fluidly with the bow, twisting and gliding around expertly. James imagined what Mark's hand could do to _him,_ and with those thoughts came the urge to lean over and kiss the man. He argued with himself that it was a bad idea, but he began to lean in anyway. 

 

He hesitated for a moment, listening to the song which was slowing down, signifying the end. 

 

 _It's now or never, James._ He told himself. And he was sure that it was. If he didn't do it now, he would probably never get a chance again. When the song ended, Mark kept his eyes closed, and smiled. 

 

James brought up his hands to grab Mark's tearing them away from his violin, which fell to the ground with a clatter. He pressed his lips against the other man's, and suddenly everything fell very still around them. Mark pulled back quickly and pulled his hands from James' to bring them to his lips. 

 

"I thought that..." His voice cracked and faltered. He shook his head. "What was that?" He looked confused, but in a pleasant way, and James knew that he hadn't made a mistake.

 

"I know, Mark. Just, let me." He leaned forward again. Mark stopped him with his hands.

 

"Wait, it was  _me?"_ James laughed. He was expecting this. 

 

Laughing gleefully, he replied. "Of course it was. It's been you. For awhile now." James was sure that he'd never seen Mark so happy about anything. 

 

"So, are we...?"

 

"Yes. If you want."

 

"Of course."

 

A smile was plastered to James' face, and Mark was brandishing a rather large one too. 

 

"Let's try this again." 

 

Mark gave a confused look, and opened his mouth to say something, but James leaned forward to capture his lips.

 

He let his tongue slip into Mark's mouth and felt Mark's smile come back.

 

He was sure that this was the most perfect moment of his whole life, and that he would be here for a long _long_ time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this story, I'd love it if you'd drop a request in the comments section! I'll do just about every ship if I can. (Also if you like Overwatch, I have an Overwatch one-shot compilation in the works, so keep an eye out for it!) (Haha self-promotion is cheap I know, but I had to.)


	3. Where Is This Man? I Want To Punch Him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, we've come to the end of this story. I am going to keep writing this lovely pair, and some others, including but not limited to Blitz/Bandit and Kapkan/Glaz. This has been a lovely adventure, and I am SO happy to have shared it with everyone who has given me a small piece of their time to read it. I am flattered by the support you've all given me in the comments! So, without further ado, please enjoy the last installment of this story, as much as I did writing it! (Still no alpha or beta, excuse errors, in process of finding one. xD)  
> (This chapter is in the POV of: Mark)
> 
> (Postscript for a set of tags added in case of possible triggering scenarios. Please stay safe.)
> 
> <3

When he looked to see the shadowy figure sleeping next to him, and recalled their previous night together, Mark  _really_ still couldn't believe that it was all happening. It all seemed sort of out of this world, or something like that. He felt like nothing in the world could touch him, or James. And he felt happy, scared, and anxious; and all of those feelings wound up together in one strange combination. 

 

He'd never been with anyone. Not like  _this_ , not really. He didn't think he ever would, after what happened with his parents. He didn't think love was something that he was going to ever be able to achieve. But now that he was with James,  _really_  with him, he had a feeling that he wasn't going to end up like his dad. He didn't know where his little brother was, or if his mom was even still alive anymore, but he did know that James wasn't going to go anywhere on him, not any time soon. That was what made him happy. The little part of him that was scared was the part that kept telling him that he would leave, or that he would end up like his father, somehow, in some twisted and fucked up way. The anxious part was just the same as it always was in every aspect of his life. It wanted him to curl up in a ball and never talk to anyone ever again. It told him over and over again that somehow he'd mess up and ruin the relationship, not because he abused James, or because he'd drink, but it'd because James would grow _bored_. It'd be because he would mess up and James would find him inadequate, or less than he thought he'd be. 

 

That was the part that he liked the least. He could deal with what he called the "scared" thoughts, he rarely had them and had evidence as to why they would never happen. They were insignificant. They seemed to come at him in waves, but every time they did, it was like the just ricocheted off, like he somehow deflected them. And sometimes of course they would come back and be worse, and they'd overcome him and he'd be sad, depressed even. But then a few days later, he'd find a reason to get back up and be productive...but that was where the anxiety came in. 

 

The anxiety was what tethered him to his bed. It was what kept him from being able to function most days. It was what forced him to learn sign language, because he just couldn't bring himself to speak verbally to other people. The anxiety held him back, and told him that he wasn't good enough. He knew he must have been, because why would _anybody_ bother with him in the first place if he wasn't? But sometimes it didn't matter. Mark wished, that in times like this, with James, that it did.

 

But anxiety is a cruel mistress, and will hold herself back for no one.

 

As he learned the hard way, with his father. When he thought hard enough about it, Mark would realize that his anxiety and fear was what got him beat the most. Frozen in fear and not being able to answer his father got him plenty of backhands and punchings and beltings. The rest were from him taking his brothers punishment. He was too young to deal with that, and Mark told his father that he'd take _twice_ what he was going to give his brother if it meant that he left him alone. It worked, for the most part. There were times that he couldn't stop him of course. But usually he could. But what he couldn't stop was the assaults on his mother.

 

He wanted to stop thinking about it, before the thoughts pulled him in, and he couldn't get back out. So he closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. And it wasn't that it didn't work, because it did. He certainly slept, but it was with painful, lucid dreams about his childhood.

 

Except this time, he couldn't protect his little brother, who was still a baby, rocking in his cradle. Mark remembered this day like the back of his hand. It was the afternoon after his first violin lesson. His mother had just brought him home, and they came in to see his father in a drunken stupor, screaming at nothing, neglecting his baby brother. When she tried to stop him, it was the same thing that happened in real life. He swung his fist at her, and it connected with her cheek. He ran forward, _screaming_ at him to stop, only to be backhanded into oblivion. When he came-to in the dream, that's when things began to change. His brother was on the floor, a bloody mess and crying. The crib he'd been laying in previously had been smashed, he noticed, before a particular cry broke his train of thought. It was a weak cry, and the blood _pooling_ around him was evidence of why.  _No, this isn't how it happened, I have to wake up! This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real!_ He crawled over to the body, which had since stopped crying. 

 

He didn't have to check to see if he was breathing. He just _knew._  

 

He crawled into the kitchen, crying for his mother, who was pressed up against the counter, with a knife being held to her neck. She shook her head at him, urging him to leave her, and save himself. But he couldn't move. He felt glued to the spot watching as his father discarded the knife and started to strangle his mother. He heard her gasp for air not once, or twice, or three times. It was four, _cut-off gasps_ , before there was nothing. Only silence. 

 

Then he was being shaken, and yelled at, and he was sure that it was his father doing away with him, too. But as he jolted awake, his sweaty forehead and laboured breathing giving proof that it was a dream, he realized that it had been James, who was shaking him and yelling. 

 

"Mark, Mark, I'm here, you're okay, it's okay; it was just a dream, you don't need to be afraid." James was mumbling into Mark's hair and he was reminded of his mother. "What was it about? You don't have to tell me, it's okay. Even if you don't remember. If you want to talk about it, I want to help." He was worried about him, Mark knew.  _He probably thinks that they're his fault. But they aren't. They're mine._

 

Suddenly, he is acutely aware of the steady stream of salty liquid falling from his eyes. He didn't find it fair that he was putting James through all of this in the early morning after they'd  _slept with each other._ It seemed unceremonious and rude to him. He didn't know what to say to him so he turned on the lamp on his nightstand and said- no,  _signed_ what he was thinking to him.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"No. No, don't be sorry. _Why_ would you be sorry?" He signed back.

 

"Because this is ridiculous. You shouldn't have to deal with this all the time."

 

"I don't mind."

 

"You'll start to, trust me."

 

"I really don't think so, love."

 

Mark didn't see why he deserved to be called 'love'. There wasn't _anything_ remotely lovely about the way he'd been crying or his dream and the way he'd woken James up with it. So he tried a different approach,

 

"It seemed so _real._ "

 

"I can't imagine could have scared you so bad..."

 

Now he didn't know if he should tell him. He was worried that James would think less of him if he did. That he'd seem like some sort of _savage._  

 

They sat in silence for what seemed like at least an hour. Then he decided, that he was going to tell him all about his abusive father and how he drank.

 

And he also decided that he was going to tell it by mouth.

 

"My father. He was,  _is_ an alcoholic, with a short temper. In my small family, there were only so many people he could take it -his _anger-_  out on. My mother, my younger brother, or me." He paused and took a shallow, weak sounding breath. "It was usually me. I never did anything, or said anything, and I think that that was part of the problem. If I'd spoken up, I could have solved so many problems for my mother, but I thought that it'd be better for everyone if I just stayed shut up. Stayed Mute. And it helped my brother. He hit me more than him and mother, I think, which was all I wanted. For them to be happy. I couldn't have cared less about myself when I was younger. I just wanted to protect the people I cared about." James cupped Mark's cheeks in his hands, and Mark thought back to his mother again.

 

"Mute...I- I see, now. That's why you..." He trailed off and Mark was sure that he knew why.

 

James seemed rather serious, and sat staring into Mark's eyes for an amount of time that made Mark slightly flustered. He coughed and his expression became even more serious, if that was humanly possible.

 

"Love, I have a question. Don't be upset, or brush it off like nothing, because it _is_ something, and it's something rather important." 

 

"Go on." He held up a hand, keeping James from talking for a moment more. "But I swear to _God_ if you ask me if I know the  _fucking muffin man_ who lives on  _fucking_ Drury Lane one more  _goddamn time,_ I might actually  _kill you."_ James laughed his perfect laugh and shook his head, wiping the stray tears from Mark's face, successfully causing him to blush. He leaned in and brushed his lips against the other man's, eliciting a small squeak from Mark. 

 

"Where is this man? I want to punch him."

 

A silent pause.

 

" _Hard_. And you know, preferably multiple times with _brass knuckles_ , but once works for me if that's all I can get."

 

That made Mark laugh, and he smiled through the anxiety that had filled him since they made love the night before. "Maybe I can get you a, ah...appointment, with Mr. Chandar, if that's something you think you'd like?"

 

"Only if you're there."

 

"Of course. I think I'd like to be with you wherever you are."

 

And this time, it was James' turn to smile at him.

 

"I think that I'd like that, too, Mark."

 

"Well to the prison in Leeds we go, yes?

 

"Of course."

 

.

.

.

.

.

But, maybe it'd be best if they stayed their hands, no?


End file.
